Gypsophilia
by ladedadeda
Summary: Katniss wakes from her dream. There was no rebellion, or District 13. Instead Katniss wakes from this vivid nightmare to find its the day before her wedding to Peeta Mellark and there is nothing she can do to stop it. This story is placed after the third Hunger Games book and rewrites the events of previous books and creates a different future for Katniss and Peeta. Please R&R.
1. Chapter 1

PART ONE - KATNISS

CHAPTER ONE – TWO WEDDINGS, ONE MARRIAGE.

It was a dream.

I wake from my fever, sweat pouring down my back, drowning me in my sleep.

Today is the morning before my wedding to Peeta Mellark.

I had dreamt that this wedding never happened, that President Snow had sent us into the games again, that there was an uprising, that there was a district thirteen, and that they won the war. That Prim died.

Prim.

I bolt upright and run down the corridor to her room. When I turn the corner I find her awake and sitting in front of her dresser, brushing buttercups fur and tying a little pink bow around his neck, just like the one in her hair.

"Prim?" I ask. I am not entirely certain that this isn't part of my horrific dream as well, that Prim is a ghost haunting my sleep.

Prim looks up in the mirror and sees my reflection. I see it too. I am as white as a sheet and shining with sweat.

"Katniss what's wrong?" she asks, getting up and rushing to me.

"Nothing, I just had a bad dream that's all." I say, leaning on her for support. She helps me over to her bed where we sit together.

"About the games?" she asks.

"Well yes, I suppose." I say half laughing. It was a nightmare like I had never had before, so vivid and so real. But I am not sure waking is much more of a comfort.

After The Games, President Snow went about punishing me in the most permanent way he could think of; by making me marry Peeta. Snow figured that for a girl on fire, her freedom to burn is what keeps her going. So he took my freedom away from me.

We stifled any sparks of rebellion in the districts on our Victory Tour and as a result, we are allowed to live. But what life is left when someone has taken away your freedom?

Peeta and I have barely spoken in days. The closer it got to the wedding the more resigned he became until he could bare it no longer. Haymitch tells me that I have to try and understand that this is hard for Peeta because he hoped that someday we would get married, but that it would be willing. Because I loved him. I do love him. I am just not sure in what way.

"How are you feeling?" Prim asks, brushing the sticky strands of hair away from my forehead.

Since The Games she has grown up faster than I ever thought possible. I suppose watching someone you love in a televised fight to the death causes you to grow up, to become strong. When ever I look at her now, I get that pang of guilt from knowing that she shouldn't have had to grow up so quickly.

And then I get another pang; a bigger pang, a deeper pang. A pang of pure and utter terror. Terror; because I know that when I marry Peeta, Panem will expect us to have children. They will expect us to have children and we will have to watch them be reaped as a punishment for our crimes.

Children? How could I bring a child into this world? A world where the weak and innocent are turned to monsters before our very eyes? How could I let my children be part of that?

The thoughts rush through my head and I start to hyperventilate. The future that I fear so much will be starting today. Today we travel to the capitol and then tomorrow I marry Peeta Mellark and secure my fate.

"Katniss?" Prim's voice is calling me, but I can barely hear her through the thunderous thoughts that echo in my mind.

"Katniss breathe!" Prim shouts at me. Her hands are rubbing my arms trying to bring me back to her, but I am lost. The terror has overcome me and I am trembling.

I am aware of Prim's shouts, somewhere to my left, out the window perhaps, but I am lost in a mental nightmare that will not end.

The next thing I know, Peeta is standing in the doorway looking slightly windswept. He takes one look at me and is holding me a second later.

"Prim, go downstairs and get a glass of water. I will look after her." He says calmly, kneeling in front of me. My quickened breath is ebbing, only to be replaced by deep sobs coming from somewhere deep inside me.

"Pe-ee-taa." I choke out.

"Shhh, Katniss its okay, I will look after you. And you will look after me. We are a team now, he cannot hurt us."

"But we will have to have chil-dren." I sob, trying to convey my distress.

"No we won't. Not if we don't want to. He is making us stronger Katniss, you and me together, we can protect each other and your family." He says, clutching my face with both hands and making me look straight into his eyes.

"Okay?" he gives my head a slight shake with his hands, willing me to understand. But I am just so afraid.

"I will protect you." He says so softly that his words flutter on my skin.

And I believe him.

I can't stop the tears from coming then. They flow down my cheeks in heavy streams and soon we both drown in them.

Peeta picks me up from the bed and carries me in his arms to my bedroom, taking me straight into the bathroom where he slips off his shoes and walks into the shower with me still in his arms.

Peeta flicks the handle on the shower with his elbow and lowers us onto the tiled floor where I sit still in his arms, sobbing into him. He clutches me to him and I feel him feel my pain. Feel him feel my worry and in that moment I feel more married to Peeta than any ceremony would bring.

He feels my pain and holds me to him while I cry.

We stay under the warm water for as long as possible until my mother comes in and tells us that the cars will be here soon to take us to the station. We have to untangle ourselves then but Peeta will not leave my side. Eventually my mother manages to coax him into the guest bedroom where he can dry off and change before the journey while my mother and Prim helped me to change.

I am exhausted from the tears and my limbs feel like lead. Once they get me dry and dressed, mother goes to make tea and Prim gently brushes through my hair.

This will be one of the last moments Prim and I have alone before I get married so I pull her arms around me and hold her there for as long as I can. After the wedding I will be moving in with Peeta, of course i'll be just across the square, but i won't be living with her anymore. I don't want to be separated from her. I almost can't bare it.

"Katniss, I know this is not what you want, but you do love Peeta, maybe not in that way, but he is your best friend isn't he?" She asks me, her cheek pressed to mine, her voice soft.

"I suppose so. But he's more than that and what about my other best friend, Prim?" I reply, my voice shaking. I really don't want to fall a part again, but talking about Gale is difficult. We have not spoken in weeks. He can't face it. I can't face it. Our relationship will never be normal again because I am getting married. I am no longer his; not in a romantic way, but in companionship. Before Peeta came along it was just Gale and I, leaning on each other for safety, solitude and freedom. Now I have no freedom, I will never feel safe again because of The Games, and Peeta is my only solitude because he shared The Games with me. He understands me so much more than Gale now. And that is why it's so hard for him.

My mother comes up the stairs with tea and my favourite cheese buns that Peeta brings round for us. We eat together, relatively silent a part from a soft touch or loving word. The room is charged with sadness and through every gesture there is sorrow. But there is so much love. I am not going back into The Games, we are going to the capitol together, I am getting married; sure it's not perfect, but we were alive and we are together and that is what matters.

We had been so much more of a family since the end of The Games than I ever thought possible. My mother had become herself again and there was an eager sense of closeness, that hadn't been there before; a closeness, not because we had to, but because we wanted to be together.

The morning is perfect, sitting on my bed with my mother and Prim, watching the spring sun dance in their golden hair as I savour the last moments of being an Everdeen.

The train is made of two parts. They put me and Peeta in the first stretch of the train, as well as Haymitch, while my family and Peeta's are in the back half of the train. It is obviously an attempt to make me feel separated from my family before I need to be, but that's not what bothers me. It feels far too much like the journey to The Capitol i made before my Hunger Games.

When Peeta gets in the train behind me I can tell he feels it too, that dark memories are surfacing and I hold out my hand for him. I give it a tight squeeze and we trudge through the train together.

We find our old compartments and when we enter them are faces turn blank and cold. We decide to ditch them.

We walk down to the far front of the train, past another dining area and then come to another set of compartments. We find one that is large with a big bed and a window. We quickly dump our stuff on the floor, open the window to smell the spring air, lock the door and climb into bed together. We sleep in each others arms for what seems like hours until a knock at the door wakes us.

Peeta opens the door with groggily to see Haymitch eyeing us suspiciously.

"Well I was not expecting this." He says gesturing to the bed which I am still curled up in.

"What do you mean?"

"I thought you would be avoiding each other like it was plague season and Katniss was covered in boils." Haymitch says with raised eyebrows. Peeta laughs. I don't.

"We decided to face this together, it's hard for both of us and we always come out fighting if we go into something as a team." He looks at me with those blue eyes and I feel my heart give a little. I knew that Peeta was willing to sacrifice his life for me, but somehow him sacrificing his future just didn't seem possible. But he is. He has swallowed his heartache and forced himself to be a comfort for me right now. When will he ever stop giving me parts of himself i don't deserve.

"Well, I am surprised, but pleased. Think I could drag you two apart to come join me for dinner?" he asks.

Now that is a shock. Peeta tells Haymitch we will be there in a few minutes and closes the door behind him. When he turns to face me I see his eyebrows are as raised as mine.

"What the hell was that?" I ask. Haymitch wasn't usually sober enough to eat dinner let alone want to eat it with us.

"I have no idea, but I am kind of intrigued." Peeta says with a grin and I can't help but laugh.

We get changed into clothes that aren't so rumpled by sleep and then head down the corridor to the dining hall, hands still locked together.

Whatever it is I expect; this is not it. In front of us stands our families. My mother and Prim stand smiling next to Peeta's parents, clutching little glasses of what must have been wine. Next to them is Haymitch and Cinna. Everyone has gentle smiles upon their faces which seem so out of place here. They are in front of the dining room table which is laid out as lavishly as usual, only the food is no Capitol product. There is a roasted wild turkey sitting on a bed of wild herbs in the middle of table. Other dishes on the table hold cakes, buns and biscuits that could only have been made by Peeta's family. This is a feast from District Twelve, the best that money could buy there.

"We wanted to make this right for you." Haymitch is the first to speak and although his hand holding his glass is shaking, his voice is resolute and determined.

"We know that you did not choose this and it feels wrong, but we are going to toast to you both and make it better." He hands us glasses, which we take, still lost in wonder at everything before us.

"Everyone form the circle." Haymitch says and everyone shuffles into a circle behind the table.

"Katniss, Peeta, please join us." We walk to the middle of the circle, passing our wine to my mother on our way. We take our place in the centre, facing one another. Our hands find each other again.

"Cinna, you have never seen a District Twelve wedding before so I will just explain what's happening. We are here to bring Katniss and Peeta together. They have laid their lives down for each other countless times and are already family. This toasting recognises them as that. Katniss, Peeta, we have no expectations of you or the marriage that will be made tomorrow. That marriage means nothing to us, we will all honour this bond, which is stronger than any ceremony that can be performed. This bond is a promise that you will continue to protect and comfort one another as you have done so many times before, this is all we expect from you. We, as witnesses to this bond promise to guide you, and protect your bond. Katniss, Peeta, you are now family." Haymitch finishes and everyone raises their glasses into the air towards us.

Haymitch is right. What ever happens tomorrow, it does not matter. That is not the bond me and Peeta share, this is our marriage.

"Thank you." I say croakily as they all smile at us. They had made it right and there could never be enough thanks for that. I look at Peeta who reflects my relief and I know that this is right for both of us. We want this. He pulls me to him and wraps his arms around me, kissing my forehead. Everyone gives a little chuckle and there is a small round of applause.

After the hugs and embraces we sit round the table, all eager for the delicious food. It smells amazing and I can tell Greasy Sae had had something to do with the turkey. We feast together, sharing smiles and laughter. We toast to each other, to our friends, to this bond and I feel happier than I have in a long time.

There's also another feeling that I can't seem to shake. Later that night, as I am wrapped up in Peeta's arms, I realise the feeling that has crept up on me is safety. In a world where I am an enemy of the Capitol I am never safe, but my friends, my family and Peeta have made me feel protected. I am calm, and that was rare.

"What are you thinking, Katniss?" Peeta asks. We knew the other was awake but we lay in silence, savouring the moment of peace.

"I was thinking that I am happy." I say honestly. I feel Peeta's cheek turn into a smile as his face rests aginst my head.

"Me too." He replies, closing his eyes.

"This is right isn't it." He whispers as he drifts off to sleep.

I don't want to say that it is, worried that I will give Peeta the wrong impression, but I think I am finally starting to understand that Peeta knows exactly what we are to each other so I tell him the truth.

"Yes Peeta, this is right." I reply, and I mean it.

The next morning goes like a blur. My prep team force themselves on to the train only to get teary eyed at the sight of me and Peeta sleeping together; so happy, so content. Apparently, they are hopeless romantics.

When they finally shoo me out of the room, Peeta grabs my hand giving it a gentle kiss, to which Octavia swoons saying we are 'so perfect together'. Peeta gives me a little wink as I walk out the door and its hard to resist the smile that forms on my face. Peeta always knew how to play the crowd.

My smile is quickly gone though when my prep team lead me to the room to prepare for the wedding. It is the same room in The Training Centre that I had before The Games. The comfort I had felt last night is gone and replaced by the panicky feeling I get from feeling trapped. This place brings back claustrophobic memories of the feeling before The Games, knowing that i had no way out. And this is the same now. I knew that there was no way out of this wedding, but being here made all that more real.

When Portia opens the door to my room I see that someone (I knew exactly who) has filled my room with large cream roses. They sit in clear vases on every spare shelf, dresser, and cupboard so that the place is overflowing with them. My prep time oooh and ahhh but I know what they are. They are a personal reminder from President Snow that I am once again a part of his Games and by forcing me to marry Peeta, there I will remain; a piece in his Games, and at his mercy.

The sweet, sickening smell fills my nostrils making me gag. I choke it down and in my attempt find myself shaking. It's the same smell that Snow wafted from him when he came to my home before the Victory Tour a few months ago, warning me of the fate I would have if I didn't quieten any sparks of rebellion. I did though, and was marrying Peeta. I had convinced everyone that what I did in the arena, I did out of love. But had I convinced him? I truly hope so. Either way, I had made my bed, and now I had to lie in it. With Peeta. At least I would have some company.

My prep team pull me into the room and start work on me.

I start out by bathing in a hot tub that Portia draws for me. Because i am not heading back into the arena, there is no need to remove all my body hair from its cuticles in an unnecessarily painful process, so i am allowed to shave.

I sit in the tub, trying to shave my legs with my shaky hands, while Portia arranges the products she will use to get me squeaky cleaning and shining. Portia, Flavius and Octvavia have been my stylists since The Games so have seen every inch of me many times over - nudity is not a big issue for us. I see her watching me in the mirror, taking in my trembling hands holding the razor.

Not meeting my gaze she turns to me, takes the razor from me and starts to gently run it along the bottom of my legs.

I sink back into the bath, letting the bubbles engulf me so the only parts of my body showing are my legs.

In the time I have known Portia, she has never been a woman of many words, but she is quiet and strong and I find her presence comforting. She is the most level headed of my three stylists and I am glad she is with me.

After she's done with my legs, Portia pours scented oils into the bath that make my skin silky and soft. While I soak, she washes my hair with lavender scented shampoo and massages the heavenly stuff into my scalp. I think Portia can tell I am panicked because she works on me silently, moving gently, in an attempt to relax me. The warm water and her calming hands almost stop the shaking and when we leave the bathroom Cinna is waiting for us and his presence always comforts me.

From looking at me, he can tell I am not in the mind set to withstand my prep team's usual mindless natter and so he dismisses them, saying they will need time to go prepare themselves for the big event.

Octavia is the first to rush to me, hugging me tightly.

"I can't wait to see you in your dress," she says, "you will look beautiful."

It was the first time anyone in the Capitol, aside from Cinna, had ever thought of me as beautiful. I had always assumed they found my lack of genetic enhancement boring and plain but Octavia sounds so genuine I actually feel touched by her words. Flavius takes my hand and kisses it in a low bow, making me feel positively regal, before following Octavia out the door. Portia, last to leave, looks me in the eyes and gives my hand a reassuring squeeze before she leaves.

I know that my prep team are superficial and have a Capitol pedigree that I detest, but in this moment I feel a surge of affection for them because I know that they feel for me. It was something in Portia's touch; Flavuis' Kiss and Octavia's sweet smile that makes me feel slightly reassured.

Alone, Cinna starts to work on me. He starts with my nails, shaping them perfectly and painting them over in a slight blush colour varnish. He does my hair by tangling out the knots then drying it into waves. It falls loosely down my back and Cinna twists the front parts back into a slight V shape behind my head and pins it there.

He rubs some shining liquid onto my face before adding minimal makeup; a light touch of eyebrow pencil, a thin coat of mascara to make my lashes look longer and a peachy blush on my cheek bones. Cinna helps me into the chiffon wedding dress that the people in The Capitol picked for the occasion. As Cinna ties the waistband behind my back the dress feels completely different to the one I stired on a few months ago. Cinna is silent throughout the whole process he steps back to survey me I get a little annoyed and break the silence.

"Yes?" I huff. He had been studying me and a frown had formed on his face; rude.

"Just a few finishing touches." He says smiling at me and kissing my cheek. Cinna goes behind me and starts pinning things into my hair. I can't see what he is doing but i can feel his careful fingers on my head for around ten minutes. After that he slips the stunning satin wedding shoes he designed for the occasion on to my feet and helps me up. I start to turn to look in the mirror but Cinna shouts at me to stop.

"Wait!"

He quickly dabs some natural coloured lipstick onto my lips and then takes my shoulders into his hands.

"You done now?" I say, raising my eyebrows and letting my voice show my impatience.

"Yes," he breathes and his face transforms into a smile,

"Now you can look."

Cinna gently twists my shoulders round so I am facing the mirror.

My jaw drops. Before me stands something so unearthly perfect I can't believe it's me.

My dress which I had thought was fuller when I tried it on months ago is now thin and light as a feather, made of layers of chiffon and trimmed with lace at the ends. The long sleeves I remember are gone, now replaced with a v-neck dress that drops low to reveal the lacy insert underneath. The dress now swings low at the side under my arms, the effect making me look long and birdlike, and showing my skin which is luminous. My glossy brown hair hangs in loose waves past my shoulders and is pulled away from my face to be held in place by dozens of little flowers. They are all my favourite flowers. Purple Violets and Snow Drops, as well as bunches of Gypsophilia all line the back of my hair like a crown. Cinna barely touched my face but somehow he has transformed my skin so I am practically glowing. My cheeks are rosy and my eyes big but relatively bare. I look young, and fresh but most of all I look like myself, only the best looking version of myself I have ever seen.

"I can't believe it." I whisper to Cinna, looking at him through the reflection in the mirror.

"I look like a-"

"You look like you." He says smiling, and i can't argue with him, because i do.

I look like how people imagine you once your dead, lacking in imperfections, wearing white, a crown of flowers in your hair. I am glad Cinna didn't completely change me. He worked with what he had, making me beautiful but keeping me the same. I feel like myself which is the reassurance I need to walk into this without trembling head to toe.

Cinna takes my hand and turns me to face him.

"You are Katniss Everdeen. A Victor. You are my girl on fire, do not be afraid, just look to Peeta and then they can't take this from you."

I didn't understand, the Capitol could take anything from me. I am their slave who is willing to serve to protect the people I love. What couldn't they take from me?

While I consider Cinna's words, a bell chimes, signalling the beginning of the wedding.

I search Cinna's eyes for a way out, only to find to find his last words hanging there, causing more confusion.

He leads me out of the room, into the elevator that takes us down through the training centre and spits us out onto a narrow alley way. I can see sunlight pouring through the gap at the end of the alley and walk towards it. When I look out, I feel my whole body shake.

The street opens onto the raised part of the square in front of President Snow's mansion. Only the square has changed. The raised cobbled ground is now a huge bed of grass, full of large pink and white blossom trees that stand wilting over its inhabitants. The grass is covered in flowers springing from its green and the scent of Snow's roses hang in the air. It seems to be contained somehow in this area and that's when the full magnitude of it hits me. Snow has built me an arena. He has trapped me in and filled it with his stench so that I am suffocating. I look to my left and see at least two hundred guests sitting in rows on wooden chairs. I then look higher, up to the raised grass bank where the blossom trees form an arch and under it stands the tall figures of men in black suits. I can't make them out but I can assume one of them is Peeta. My eyes begin to blur as the smell stings them and when I shake my head to clear it from the fumes, I catch a glimpse of what lies to my right. Outside the Arena stand thousands of people, filling up the streets, waving banners, shouting words that cannot be heard behind what must be an invisible screen encasing the official wedding guests.

I am getting overwhelmed and struggling to breathe. The stench of Snow's roses is just so strong. I back away from the opening and lean on the cool brick wall for support, wishing that it would swallow me up and hide me.

"Katniss," Cinna comes to me, taking my face in his hands and stroking my cheeks.

I know I need to be strong, to pull myself together, but I just can't get over the smell.

"I am not so sure I can do this," I breathe.

"Of course you can. Listen to me, don't look at anyone or anything until Peeta lifts up your veil and then you find his eyes. When you see him, you will know what to do." Cinna says.

"Veil?" I reply, focussing on Cinna's words to calm myself.

"This one." He says and pulls the most beautiful veil from behind his cream tuxedo clad body. The veil is made of netting and white lace and it sways gently in the manufactured breeze. Cinna slides it into the back of my hair with a clip and then pulls it over my face obscuring him partly from view.

He quickly turns me to face the edge, placing a bouquet of white roses in my hand and before I have time to register their sickly scent, he pulls me out into the open.

The first thing I feel is the ground shaking from the crowd's reaction to my appearance. They are screaming, cheering and pounding on the ground as they watch me on a big screen that is broadcasted all over Panem.

I try to focus on what's in front of me; feeling my arm through Cinna's elbow, my other hand clutching my bouquet, my feet working frantically to place one leg in front of the other in time to the gentle music that seems to be emanating from birds in the trees.

I almost stop when I realise what they are singing. It's Rue's three note whistle, intermingled into a symphony and fed to the MockingJay's that are hiding in the trees.

I dig my nails into Cinna's arm and plaster a fake smile on my face, refusing to give Snow any satisfaction. I just have to bear it. Torture in an arena. Well, it's nothing I haven't had before.

The veil that Cinna designed is genius because although I can see through it, the lace edging before my eyes gives me something to focus on so I stare at the lace and allow Cinna to guide me up the Isle. When he stops I am confused, until I realise that this is as far as he goes with me. We have reached Cinna's seat and I must enter up the stone steps alone.

I grit my teeth and smile harder, kissing Cinna on the cheek.

As I do so I feel the tickle of his breath in my ear.

"Only look at Peeta." He reminds me in a voice so quiet no one could have heard.

I turn back to the Isle, taking my dress in one hand and lift it off the ground so I can climb the steps. I have never been good at walking in heels and the train of my dress makes it that much harder. I almost stumble and as a result, take my eyes of the lace on my veil for just a second.

Oh God. My eyes caught a glimpse of a tall figure, with dark olive skin and a pair of grey eyes like mine that could only belong to one person in this whole world. Gale.

I should have listened to Cinna more closely.

Gale is standing on the right side of Peeta, next to Haymitch acting as one of the groomsmen. I feel physically sick. There are no ends to President Snow's cruelty. Snow has put Gale there, forcing him to witness my marriage to Peeta, to bless it with his presence. He has also put him there to dangle him in front of my face, as the future I could have had, if I had not defied the Capitol.

But could I have done?

Thinking back to those days in the foods I wonder if we would have really had a future. The only way Gale and I could ever have been together, was if we ran away. We could run away into the woods and never look back, living off each other. But we never could. Not with our families. We couldn't take them with us, but we couldn't leave them behind to bear the weight of our punishment. There was no way that Gale and I could have been together in this world.

As I walk past him, I say goodbye to the future that was never possible for us. His eyes find mine and I see him do the same. It hurts, but it's for the best.

When I reach the top of the grass bank, I pass my bouquet to Prim who is standing to my left, and face the blonde figure in front of me.

Snow, who is standing behind us, addresses the crowd and Panem, giving an elaborate speech about what brought us to this day. He talks of the two star crossed lovers, who have devoted their lives to each other and their country. He spins us into a patriotic facade of Capitol loving mongrels and I would have cared if I wasn't slightly amused. The truth was I wasn't worried anymore. The longer I was in the arena filled with the smell of roses and Rue's tune, the more my skin hardened and I built up a defence against Snow.

When he finishes and the ceremonial words are about to begin, the veil is lifted from my face and there is a simultaneous intake of breath that resonates through the guests at the sight of me. I don't notice though. Hands that lifted my veil find mine and my eyes flick up to find the owner of those strong, familiar hands.

Cinna was right. I just needed to look to Peeta.

I find Peeta's perfect blue eyes and he finds mine and it is as though the world is lost. After last night, Peeta is already my family and looking to him means comfort for me. The swirling blue shades dance in the light and I find myself grinning. Genuinely grinning. I start to find this whole thing hilarious because Snow is doing everything he can to hurt us, but it has no effect. Peeta is smiling too and I see laughter playing in his eyes. His eyes are laughing because Snow's forcing us to get married, but we already are.

I block out Rue's tune and replace it with our own. It's a silent whistle that can only be found on the wind in the early hours of the morning on a restless night. It's the sound of Peeta breathing as he sleeps next to me, guarding me from the night.

I stare into Peeta's eyes and understand the meaning of Cinna's words. I was so afraid to marry Peeta because it meant my choice had been taking away from me, that I would have to marry him, have children with him, watch them die in The Games. But after what happened last night, making Peeta my family had never been a choice. He is a part of me and I am a part of him. We have shared so much with one another that he can be nothing less than my family. This isn't something that The Capitol is forcing on us, it is something that has been cemented between us since The Games. And somewhere inside me I know I want to spend my life with Peeta at my side, guarding me from the world that tried to destroy us. I need him. This is my choice.

I am still lost in my thoughts when Snow announces the kiss that will seal our marriage.

I look back at Peeta and find him leaning towards me. I do the same and our lips meet softly in the middle. His kiss is gentle, and sweet and full of a love that could never be manufactured. It is a want to protect, to nurture and to cherish and I return it with every breath I give.

After the kiss there is a stampede of sound from the crowd. Obviously a switch has been hit so we can here the ruckus from the streets. We turn to cheers from the few hundred in the arena and they throw confetti on us as we are swept into Snows mansion for the extravagant wedding feast. A couple of peacekeepers who are escorting us lead us into a room full of more flowers and tables towered high with gifts.

"Your wedding presents." A Peacekeeper adds gruffly before leaving the room and shutting the doors behind us. Before the door handle clicks shut I drop my bouquet and am in Peeta's arms. One of his hands clutches the back of my head fiercely and I realise he must of been in hell before I arrived. When I emerged into the makeshift arena full of that putrid smell and Rue's song I thought only of myself and the memories that were surfacing. I hadn't even thought how horrible it must have been for Peeta, standing there, waiting. I hugged him closer feeling guilty for not thinking of him.

"You look like an angel." He whispers into my ear. I pull back, smiling.

"All Cinna's handy work." I say twirling, but Peeta catches me.

"No, it's all you, only now everyone else sees you how I do everyday." Peeta says, gazing at me. I look away because those sorts of comments make me uncomfortable, but I suppose now Peeta could say that sort of thing whenever he liked. There was nothing between me and Gale anymore, President Snow made sure of that. So now I could start to actually consider what was between Peeta and me. After all, we would be together for the rest of our lives so I could let myself consider all those feelings I had when we were in the games. All those kisses that weren't just for the camera.

I allow myself to think about those kisses now and before I realise what I am doing, I lean forward and press my lips to Peeta's. It is the first kiss we have ever had without anyone watching us. It is the lightest touch of lips and Peeta is taken slightly by surprise at first. Then he kisses me back, so softly it is as though he's scared of breaking me. His hands reach up to my face, making my skin tingle at his touch. When our lips part he holds my face to his, our foreheads touching and his hands still holding me.

We stay there in silence, the sun shining through a window onto us, capturing the outline of our faces against eachother.

"Do I have to be a Mellark now?" I ask suddenly, pulling away from him. The thought shot through my head and I blurt it out, severing the moment.

Peeta laughs and grabs me around the waist, pulling me back to him.

"No you don't." He says as I struggle out of his arms, but he is so strong there is no point in trying,

"You will always be Katniss Everdeen to me anyway." He whispers, taking my face back in his hands and cradling it to his. I laugh at his eagerness to keep hold of me and realise that is exactly what I want him to do.

And he does. Throughout the feast and all the dances and conversations Peeta does not let go of my hand. Everyone thinks it's adorable and Caesar Flickerman makes a joke to Peeta that nobody will try to steal me from him. But he still does not let go. We dance and laugh, half the time it being for the cameras but another half, moments dancing it Peeta's arms, are for us. I keep on catching President Snow eyeing us with suspicion; his face dark but then easily reassembled when anyone talks to him. I wonder why he looks so puzzled, but am easily distracted and don't give it too much thought.

By the time the festivities are over, it is the middle of the night and Peeta and I are swept, half asleep, into a car to the train station and then loaded onto the train. We crawl into bed, half dead from dancing and laughing.

"Urgh I am exhausted." I said sleepily to Peeta as he pulls off his tie and slumps onto the bed next to me.

"Its okay, you can sleep now." He replies, pulling me into the nook of his arm and kissing the top of my head. I don't stop him but instead snuggle into him and before the train has pulled away, am fast asleep.

The next morning our carriage is empty. Haymitch has disappeared, probably drunk himself into a stupor somewhere so Peeta and I have the carriage to ourselves. We find breakfast laid out in the dining hall and rush in, starving, having slept for most of the day again. Peeta and I have spent most of our time over the last few days asleep. I think our bodies are trying to catch up on the many restless nights we have had since The Games. It was also quite rare for us to have such a peaceful night, but being together seemed to make it better.

We sit at the table together. I immediately grab a pastry from the massive dish of them and start to pull it apart, pulling my knees up underneath my chin and eating away.

Peeta is watching me.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing," he says, "you just... still look amazing."

I raise my eyebrows at him.

"What? you do!" he protests but I throw my pastry at him. The look on his face when it hits him square in the forehead makes me laugh and I almost spit all the pastry in my mouth onto the table.

We decide to move our breakfast into the sunlight. There is a big, furry cream rug on the floor by the couch's where the window stretch down far to the ground so you can see out. We take our tea and pastries to the rug, and eat curled up together. Peeta feeds me fresh strawberries while I play with the fur on the rug.

I begin to let myself feel something for Peeta and for once it doesn't scare me so much.

"Peeta, what do we do now?" I ask him as we lay still sprawled on the rug with my head listening to steady beat of his heart in his chest.

"We stay here forever," he replies sleepily. I wriggle round onto my front, propping myself up onto my elbows to face him.

"No Peeta, we have to go home, move in together, then what? What do we do then? Do we keep doing this for the rest of our lives? I don't understand us Peeta." I say. Peeta opens his eyes to look at me. The breeze from the open windows flicks a strand of my hair in front of my face and he gently tucks it behind my ear. I shake my head down in frustration.

"Neither do I, Katniss. But I do know that nothing has to change unless we want it to. We made this our choice through the toast, nothing is going to change, okay?" he asks and it makes sense to me, so I nod.

At that moment one of the stems of flowers falls out of my hair.

"Oh, the Gipsophylia" I say scooping it up, "It's dying."

I am honestly a little sad that it's dying. Before I say another word, Peeta jumps up to the table, filling a glass with water and placing the flower in it.

"Thank you. It's one of my favourite flowers, after a Primrose."

"Its a really beautiful flower." He says smiling.

"Yes it is. Will you help me with the rest?" I gesture to the back of my head.

Peets nods, sitting behind me, and starts to gently pull out the rest of the flowers left in my hair, adding them to the water glass. Afterwards, he removes all the pins; letting my hair fall, still in waves, down my back. I feel his fingers running through my hair, gently pulling out the tangles. I close my eyes, enjoying the feel of him. When it stops, his hands slide down over my arms and I feel his lips follow, softly kissing my shoulder, leaving my skin tingling the way it had after we kissed yesterday. Peeta lies on his back next to me and I scoot over so that I am lying in the crook of his arm. His fingers find their way back into my hair and mine play with a little dip in the middle of his chest. We stay like this, talking and dozing for the rest of the journey home.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO – HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS.

When we get home, Peeta does the symbolic 'carrying me over the doorstep' for the cameras and a very drunk Haymitch decides he wants to help. He stumbles towards us and lands face down in front of our feet. The camera crew find it hilarious.

Once inside, hidden from the rest of the world, we aren't sure what to do. The house is quiet and it feels unnaturally still.

I worry that our uncertainty will cause Peeta to avoid me, to let go of me and make me feel uncomfortable. But he doesn't. He keeps hold of my hand and guides me towards the massive pile of presents that sits on the kitchen table.

We start to unwrap them, looking at the strange objects and wondering what the point is to a solid gold serving knife. We decide to wrap that one back up to trade it for something down at the Hob. My natural instinct would be to give to Hazelle so she could feel her family, but I know that Gale will never accept anything from me now. Never again.

We ramble through the gifts of plates and utensils, stacking them in the shelves and thinking they will never come out again; we aren't exactly the kind to throw dinner parties.

When we are down to the last few remaining presents, Peeta unwraps a rectangular box that is labelled with his name. He lets out a sort of sigh so I turn to see what has caused his delight.

In his hands, Peeta holds a light brown wooden case that is lined with red velvet. A beautiful set of oil paints rests upon the velvet and the top of the case is engraved with Peeta's name in delicate writing.

I see another gift wrapped in the same silver paper as Peeta's and quickly open it. As soon as the soft leather of the book falls into my hands I can feel my father's presence. He had been in the pages, in the writing, on the spine. A note slips from the book and I read the same delicate slanting writing which could only be my mother's.

_"Katniss, this is your father's plant book that he and I made together. It is not complete. Perhaps you and Peeta could finish it for us."_

The note is short but still manages to make my throat tighten. I clutch the book to my chest. This gift is everything I need. It gives something for Peeta and I to do together instead of worrying about the pressures of our new bond, but it is also a blessing from my father over us.

Suddenly, I have an idea. That night before we go to bed, I pack the book and the oil paints into my game bag and stow them by the front door. I pack us some food as well because we will not be home till evening.

As I tiptoe up the stairs to join Peeta in bed I almost feel excited for tomorrow. I have found a way for us to spend time together away from everyone, where we can get to know each other again. The weight that I have felt since returning from the Games begins to lift at this thought.

The next morning I rouse Peeta around five. He squints at me through the early morning light, frowning, and then pushes me away with a groan. Somebody is obviously not a morning person.

"Get up!" I shout, taking my pillow and starting to hit Peeta with it, while climbing onto him to get a better position to hit him.

"Get up, get up, get up!" I repeat, finding the whole thing rather amusing. Peeta gives a loud and final groan before sitting up on his elbows and frowning at me.

"Why exactly do I need to get up at the crack of dawn?" he asks, squinting up at me.

"Because we are going on a trip," I reply in a mock tone.

"Are we now?" Peeta says as he sits up all the way and brushes his hair out of his face.

"mmmhmm," I reply, having to swallow hard. I didn't realise until now that I was positioned on Peeta's legs, straddling his body, and now that he was sitting, I was very aware of how close he was to me. The proximity of his body to mine makes my throat tighten, my mouth go dry and my skin tingle.

"Well we better get moving then," he says softly, eyes fixed on my face.

Peeta's movements are slow as he leans his face towards mine and gently removes the pillow from my fingers. Our lips are almost touching when his curl up into a grin.

"What?" I whisper, still lost in the moment.

I don't get a reply. Instead Peeta shoves the big feather pillow straight in my face.

We set out for the fence. I can tell it's going to be a beautiful day because the sky is clear and the sun is already warming District 12. I had put on white sleeveless shirt that was light in the wind; a product of Cinna's work of course, and my black trousers and hunting boots. As we walk through the quiet town, i feel the breeze flick across my skin under the shirt and I know it is a good choice for this weather. We walk hand and hand in the sun, undisturbed in the early morning.

When we reach the fence, Peeta pulls away from me and I turn to him, puzzled. His face is pained, knowing that this is the place I used to go hunting with Gale. But that's not where I am taking him. I don't know how to tell him that I want to show him something, something that I have only shared with one person, and it's not Gale. I hold my hand back out for him, gesturing for him to trust me. He does. We slip under the fence unnoticed and run through the meadow, heading straight for the woods.

When I reach the shadows of its cool trees, it's like someone flicks a switch in me and I feel instantly at home. I like having Peeta there with me. I like him seeing this part of me, the biggest part of me. We stroll through the woods; picking out wild flowers that we think should go in the plant book my mother gave us. Peeta spots the Gypsophilia flower that I had in my hair when I married him in The Capitol and he slips it into the book.

"What are you doing?" I ask, grabbing the book to open it, not wanting him to squish the Gypsophilia buds.

"Making a memory," he says, looking at me. I allow it, thinking the scent of the Gyp between the pages will compliment my fathers. He also loved that flower, although his favorite were forget-me-nots. I could never forget him.

When we finally reach the place I am leading him too, Peeta gasps and I feel myself light up. We are standing on the edge of a small clearing, overlooking a beautiful lake. In the summer months when I was younger it's surface was covered with lilies, just as it is now. The little cabin that stands at the edge of the lake with a small decking leaning over the water is surrounded by bluebells.

"When did you find this place?" Peeta asks, dragging his eyes off the beauty to turn to me.

"My father used to take me here," I say wistfully. I hadn't been to the lake in years. I found it hard when my father died and it had never been a place I wanted to share with anyone. Until now.

The place is practically buzzing with life, just as it did so many years ago. After all this time, I can still sense my father in every rustle of the trees.

While I take in every inch of the place, burning it into my memory so I will never forget the way it shimmers in the sun, I am oblivious to Peeta watching me. It seems he is trying to do the same thing with me as I am with the lake, preserving it in memory before its even gone. At least there it will always be safe.

We walk over to the decking in front of the cabin, laying down some blankets I grabbed from the house before we left. We both slip off our shoes and sit on the rug, pulling out the book and paints from the bag. I immediately drop my feet off the edge of the deck and dip them into the water

"Oh Peeta, you should really try this," I sigh, talking to him over my shoulder. The cool water feels amazing on my feet that have grown hot while stifled inside my hunting boots.

"I am alright," he replies. I turn and see that Peeta is watching me intently. A pencil in his hand is tracing the outline of my figure against the sun.

I would usually protest but what right did I have to stop Peeta from doing something that made him happy, even if that something is me. I resign myself to the sunshine and we stay like that for most of the day.

At about five o'clock Peeta announces he is done and I turn to look at his sixth sketch of the day. He has drawn the lake, the water lilies, the trees and me. My chalky outline is beautiful. I am delicate in his hands.

"It's beautiful Peeta."

"For the book I think," he replies, slipping it between the pages.

"But it's not a plant," I say, confused.

"It's what I believe the Katniss plant looks like," he says, squinting up at me in the sun and I laugh.

"I think I may have fried my skin you know." Turning my body, I show Peeta my skin which has turned a slight pink, instead of its usual olive tinge.

"You should get in the water."

I look at it longing-fully. When I am alone I can strip down and just jump in. But with Peeta here, it's a completely different story. I am not really big on the whole nudity thing.

"I don't want to get my clothes wet," I say.

"Take them off," Peeta suggests bluntly. My head naps in his direction then but his eyes do not leave the new blank sheet he has in his hands. I really want to get in, but Peeta's presence is stopping me. I feel self conscious.

In the end, my longing for the water takes over me so I order Peeta to close his eyes while I strip down to my underclothes and jump in.

As soon as the cool water hits my skin it's like a wave of tranquility rushes over me and I feel instantly refreshed. Whatever self consciousness feelings I had evaporate as I soar through the water, my body becoming one with the ripples. The water slides over me, through my outstretched fingers, floating past me in rushes. I try to catch the water, like i try to catch the feeling. The feeling of effortless fluidity. I feel graceful, I feel sleek, i feel soft. It's the fre-est I have ever felt.

I kick through the water and drift to the top, breaking through the surface and wiping my hair from my face. This feeling is so good, i want to share it. I want Peeta to feel it. It's like i can't control myself when i call out to him.

"You should come in," I call softly.

"I can't swim Katniss," Peeta replies with his eyes still fixed on his new drawing.

"I can teach you?"

"Really?" Peeta raises his eyebrows at me. He knows how I feel about nudity and is surprised. I smile at him.

"Sure."

When i say this Peeta beams and scrambles to his feet, flinging off his clothes as he runs to the edge of the lake where he can walk into the water. I swim to the edge, to find Peeta standing in just his underwear. He shirt is gone, revealing his muscular torso and I feel my body give a little tingle at the sight of him.

What on earth was that? My body had never done that before. I ignore the feeling, and climb onto the muddy bank to reach Peeta. Pulling myself from the water, i stand dripping in front of Peeta. Suddenly i am hit with a gut wrenching pang of anxiety because of how naked i feel in front of him and i try not to blush. It's useless. My cheeks turn a worryingly bright shade of pink.

"You okay?" Peeta asks, peering down at me and reaching out to me.

At his touch, i have to swallow hard because my voice is stuck somewhere in my throat.

"Mmmhmm," I nod, "just embarrassed," I mumble.

"Haha, Katniss, you have nothing to be embarrassed about," Peeta replies and hugs me in a pitying way, which just seems to make things worse. Recently, i have been left tingling and shaking at Peeta's touch. Now with so much exposed skin pressed to Peeta, i feel like i have pins and needles rushes though my limbs.

"Katniss, your hairs are standing on end," Peeta says, pulling away from me. His eyes fall down over my skin and mine follow him. I take in the bare stomach and legs and see goose bumps invading the surface of my body.

"Are you cold?" Peeta asks, starting to rub my arms in an attempt to warm me up.

"No Peeta, I am fine," I stammer, trying to stop him from rubbing my arms and making things worse. But it is pointless. I am trembling so much i can barely get a word out, let alone have enough functional movement to stop Peeta from touching me.

"Katniss what's wrong?!" Peeta asks. His eyes are wild and boring into mine.

He tries to hold me to him, to help me, but my skin feels like it's about to burn off and so eventually I loose it.

"Nothing! Its you!" I scream at Peeta. He lets go of me then and I quickly wrap my arms around myself, rubbing them to get rid of the goose bumps. In the silence that follows, Peeta stands there numbly and then finally, he turns to me.

"I am doing this to you?" he whispers, his eyes wide and disbelieving.

"Yes you jerk!" I shout in reply. My breath is heavy, telling me I must have been continuously holding it before. Now I am practically choking as i throw the air out of my mouth and suck it in, still clutching myself.

Peeta stares at me and i feel even more self conscious. I try to ignore him but his face invades my line of vision where I am watching a little black beetle crawl over a leaf on the ground. His face seems shocked and then a frown forms, causing a little line to appear in between his eyebrows, as though he is seriously considering something. Then suddenly his face goes calm and is replaced with a very serious look.

"What?" I ask confused.

"Just stand still for a second okay?" Peeta replies and his voice has a sort of frustrated tone to it I have never heard before. I am about to protest and move away but his hands hold my arms and pull me towards him. His lips are a few millimeters from mine when he looks up into my eyes.

My breathing is heavy and my body is trembling. For some reason I can't seem to take my eyes of his lips.

"Katniss, do you want me to kiss you?" he whispers.

My heart feels like it could jump out of my chest, my skin is burning under his touch and my thoughts are so cloudy I can't form an answer.

Did I want him to kiss me? There is so much adrenalin passing through my body that I can't keep a straight thought. My eyes which had been looking at his lips, flick up to meet Peter's eyes and then i have no control.

"Yes." I whisper and before the words have completely left my lips, Peter's mouth finds mine and his arms are around me. His warm body presses to mine and the contact causes me to respond immediately. My arms wrap around him, one hand finding its way into the tangle of hair just above his neck, the other resting on his chest. Peeta's hands grips my waist and back and I feel as though my skin could melt away at his touch.

We fall into the kiss and something stirs inside me. It is that feeling I had only felt once before, when I kissed Peeta in the arena. A hunger that I have never felt before flows through my body, leaving me wanting to drown in Peeta's kisses. And with nothing to stop us, I am sure I can. My body melts into him as I fall into his kisses and we stumble back. Its a second too late before my mind remembers that the only thing behind me is water, and with startled yelp, we both trip back into the lake.

"Peeta!" I shout, splashing for him, under the water. Knowing Peeta cannot swim, panic rises within me.

"Peeta!" I shout again with a strangled voice. I thrash around in the water until Peeta finally emerges from the shallows behind me.

Relief floods through me and I splash towards him, only to realise he is laughing.

"Why are you laughing! You could have drowned!"

"You looked so worried," He chuckles. That annoys me so I begin to retreat away from the shallows where Peeta is standing. He grabs me before I can though, and pulls me back to him, ignoring my protests. His hands lock around my face and he kisses me again. Even though I try to talk and push him away, my attempts are futile and so in the end I let myself sink into his wonderful kisses that make my body feel more alive than it ever has before. The water comes up to Peeta's chest and so I am practically drowning. When he notices my feeble attempts to tread water he hoists my body up, wrapping my legs around him with a grin.

"Excuse me, do you mind?" I try to say indignantly, but my voice is so shaky I just sound stupid.

"Not at all." He mumbles and starts to kiss gently down my neck. His soft lips run over my collarbone and into the nape of my neck, making me shiver. Every time we kiss I want more and I know I won't stop unless Peeta does. And he does.

"Katniss? Its getting late, shouldn't we be heading back?" Peeta says as he pulls away from me.

My body feels like screaming 'NO WE SHOULDN'T' but the sun is starting to fade and so I nod. I untangle myself from Peeta and climb out of the water quickly, not wanting him to see more of me than necessary. Running over to the deck, I shove on my sticky clothes before Peeta is out of the water. I start to pack up the blankets and food while Peeta dresses, refusing to look at him because I suddenly feel shy.

As we start back, I avoid making eye contact with Peeta and when we get into the house I run up the stairs before he can say anything. I quickly mumble something about taking a shower to get away. I run into the bathroom, turn on the shower and climb into it, still fully clothed. My mind is blurred and I feel like I want to cry, so I sit underneath the hot water with my head on my knees, trying to understand what it is that I feel.

"You know you're supposed to take your clothes off first," says Peeta's calm voice from beside me. He is standing round one of the glass doors which encloses the large square of shower. His face is calm but his eyes are pained. After a few minutes of me just looking at his trousers through the glass, he finds his voice.

"Can I come in?" he asks and I feel too confused to answer so I just nod.

Opening the glass door, Peeta climbs in and sits opposite me, leaning back against the other tiled wall.

"What's wrong Katniss?" He asks. His face looks pained. I feel a jolt of hatred for him and myself at the same time because I am so sick of him looking at me like that. But its my fault he does. I just wish I didn't keep hurting him. I bury my head back in my hands and when I don't reply Peeta continues.

"Is it because I stopped kissing you?"

His question lingers in the silence until somehow I manage to find my voice.

"Why did you stop?" I ask when i realise that that is exactly why I feel so upset. I am hurt that Peeta stopped kissing me. I feel rejected. I almost blush when I realise how shallow i feel this after everything we have been through.

"Well because I didn't know why you were doing it. I don't understand how you feel about me Katniss, and I didn't want to be kissing someone who was just doing it for the sake of it."

"I wasn't doing it for the sake of it," I reply instantly.

"Then why were you?"

Peeta peers at me through the water and I am forced to actually consider my motivation. Why did I kiss Peeta? Was I in love with him? I don't know. I still don't know how I feel about him. Or do I know, I just haven't let myself even think about it until now? Because now that Gale is gone, and my family are safe, I can actually consider how I feel about Peeta.

"I suppose I did it because I wanted to," I reply, looking up from my knees.

"But why did you want to Katniss?" he asks, pressing me further.

The pressure makes me crack a little and I blurt out something I shouldn't say.

"I don't know Peeta, perhaps because when you touch me it feels like my body is on fire! Or perhaps it's because when you kiss me all I want to do is carry on doing it! Or maybe it's because you are the only person who has ever made me feel like this!"

I shout it at him and it comes off too harsh in the small bathroom. My voice echoes around the space and I wince at the sound, wishing I had never opened my mouth.

"Is that actually how you feel?" Peeta whispers, finally breaking the silence.

"Yes," I say, because it's true.

"I feel exactly the same when I kiss you," He replies quietly, "and that's because I am in love with you, Katniss."

As he says this, I worry because I still I don't understand how I feel yet. Since meeting Peeta, our relationship has always had a condition. In The Games, the reason for our bond was survival, and then during The Victory Tour it was to keep up the image, and now what is the condition? We are married, but I did choose him as my companion. That's when I understand why I kissed him.

"I chose you," I whisper softly.

I find Peeta's eyes through the dim light. I don't know how to tell him how much I need him, how I would cease to be me without him, how everyday he saves me. As it happens, I don't need to find the words because our eyes tell it all. They connect and I go to him. His arms wrap safely around me and I lie with my body across his.

"I will always choose you," He whispers to me and kisses me again. His lips are so gentle at first but I can feel the hunger in me rising again. This time, when we kiss we have no reason to stop.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE – EIGHTEEN YEARS LATER.

The sun is bright on my face, blinding me.

_What did he just say? _

It is the day of The Reaping. We have made it six years. She is now seventeen. We only have one more year until she can't be chosen. Watching the young man on stage pull the name from the bowl with his hideously long, purple finger nails, something deep inside my soul tells me it's her.

I had let myself think we were safe. I had convinced myself that President Snow would leave us all alone because we had stopped the rebellion. I married Peeta. I made love to Peeta. He is my world. But so is she.

I hear the name but it doesn't register.

_Why is everything so bright?_

Suddenly I am thrown back into another Hunger Games, nineteen years ago. I was sixteen, hysterical and volunteering for Prim. Prim, who was so gentle she wouldn't last a day in The Games.

_What did he just say, Katniss?! _I shout at myself in my head.

Gypsophilia Mellark.

That is what he said.

It is Prim's sharp nails digging into my wrist that brings me crashing back to earth. That's when my vision clears and I see her. Gyp's blonde hair is unmistakable as she makes her way through the crowd of Seam children. She is walking slowly, forcefully. Her teeth are clenched and her hands are balled into fists.

I would feel proud of her if this were any other circumstance. But it isn't. I am watching my worst nightmare play out in front of my eyes. I can feel no pride. Just pain, panic, grief and desperation all rolled up into one blood curdling scream that is about to break through at any minute.

As I take a step forward, reaching out to her, a pair of hands engulf me; one tightening around my mouth and the other hugging me to him.

It is Mickie, Prim's husband. He is completely Seam like me, with dark olive skin and wood brown hair that frames his face in perfect curls. He is young and strong and silences me.

"I got you Katniss, I got you," Mickie whispers. His voice echoes my grief.

It takes me a few seconds to register that the hand that had been holding mine when I heard my daughter's name was gone. I tear my eyes away from Gyp on the stage. The man with the black spiky hair was running his horrible artificial nails through Gyp's perfect hair, making my skin crawl. I don't have to search the crowd long as my eyes zone in on the only movement in the square. Peeta must have jumped the rope separating the children from the adults because I see him now, pushing his way through the crowd, mouthing our daughters name because his voice has failed him.

He is getting close to her now.

_PEETA, GET HER_! I scream in my head, praying his strong arms would latch around her and protect her. But instead another pair of arms catches Peeta, stopping him from reaching her. It's Gale. He stands holding Peeta from behind and pulls him back towards the line. A few of the miners join Gale, trying to drag Peeta back, but his body just gravitates towards her.

"Well well, Gypsophilia Mellark," says the young man on the stage while forcing her to twirl in a circle, "I must say, you're even more beautiful than your mother," he says.

He doesn't need to repeat her name, or even reference me; everyone in the whole of Panem knows who she is. I have doomed her to this fate.

Gyp's crystal grey eyes find mine then, and I see my pain reflected in hers.

"Oh, you have exactly the same eyes!" Exclaims the man on the stage and points the camera's towards me, looking back and forth between us. His face looks as though he is having to restrain himself from getting me and Peeta up on the stage and parading us as a family, playing spot the difference with live people.

Hundreds of pairs of grey eyes fix on the man then. My father was loved in District Twelve, which was what caused the allegiance to me when I went into The Games nineteen years ago. But now, this hatred that they are showing, well this is something entirely new. I think it's because those grey eyes that the man on the stage is blabbering about are something that belong to District 12, they are ours. Which is why the Seam-grey eyes of women, men and children stare him down then, emanating such pure hatred that only a blind man could miss it.

He doesn't. The man's cheeks turn slightly pink, and his already high pitched voice squeaks as he clears his throat and makes for the other bowl to pick out a second tribute.

As he fishes for another name the square is so silent that the only sounds that can be heard are the scuffle of the boots belonging to the men trying to subdue Peeta. The horrible choking sounds that come from him still reach us though, and his guttural cries fill the air as though he is being tortured.

And he is. We all are.

The young man finally grabs the piece of paper he seems to be looking for because he plucks it from the bowl with a quick, 'ahah!' and reads the words clearly into the microphone.

"Leonn Hawthorne," he says.

Silence falls. Just silence. More silence. Until a scream echoes around us that reflects every feeling I have ever felt in my lifetime.

I think it would have come from Gale, but the cry is a girl's shrill scream and when I locate its owner I see Gale's oldest child Maizie throwing herself over people to reach her little brother. She is two weeks too old to volunteer to replace him, but she doesn't care. She will force her way into that arena if she has to.

I see Leonn stumbling forward as he is pushed through the crowd of children. His legs have obviously begun to fail him and he trips over his own feet. If you could pick a tribute that was at a severe disadvantage without even seeing any of the others, you would pick Leonn. With thick, dark curls that hang over his hollow eyes, Leonn is a bony boy of twelve who has never had a fully belly for a day in his life. He is the second youngest in a family of four children with only one parent to bring home food. Maizie and Brandon, her younger brother by ten minutes, have only just turned nineteen and started work. This means that Gale has been struggling to feed four mouths on his own since his wife, Donna, died five years ago.

I remember the night it happened.

It was around two in the morning and there was a heavy storm outside. I had woken up because something felt wrong. I left Peeta in bed to check on Gyp. She was sleeping peacefully, safe, surrounded by paintings of flowers that Peeta had drawn on the walls for her.

I rubbed my swollen belly that held my second child. I could tell he was a boy when he started to grow inside me. He sat low and unlike Gyp who was constantly stirring, he was still. I knew then that he was more like Peeta than me. Still and calm.

I placed a hand on my belly to check on him. I took his silence as a sign he was safe, probably sleeping like the rest of district twelve.

So what was wrong?

I tiptoed downstairs, careful not to slip in my socks on the shiny oak floors. There was a knock at the door. When I heard the dull rap, I knew instantly that it was the source of my concern.

I rushed to the door, flinging it open to find Gale, dripping wet and holding a tiny bluish bundle in his arms.

I took one look at the baby he held and rushed to the telephone, pulling Gale out of the rain as I went. I dialled Prim's number and my mother answered. Mother stayed living with Prim in my old house across the square. She helped her and Mickie with the children and they had also set up a medicine room in the back of the house.

I hung up the phone after talking, turning to see Gale still standing in the doorway, making a large puddle on the floor.

Something still was not right.

Gale and I didn't speak anymore. We saw each other around town and occasionally when he had to bring one of the children to see my mother, but we never spoke. When I saw the baby in his arms I just assumed that this was like those many other times, when I had seen him. So then why did he not take the baby straight to my mother? Why did he come to my home instead?

"What's wrong?" I asked as a chill started to spread through my body.

"She's dead," he croaked.

I looked down at the now purplish coloured bundle in Gale's arms and saw the little rise and fall of her chest. She wasn't dead. Then it hit me. Donna was dead. As soon as it registered I was across the room, holding Gale, letting his sobs fall hard and fast, shuddering through me.

He stirred then, my baby. I could feel his little hand pressed towards us. I instinctively reached mine down to meet him through the hard skin of my stomach. Already the baby was miles ahead of Peeta: he only needed one touch to express his care for people.

My mother and Prim came in then, locating the blue coloured baby between us and extracting it without a second glance. Their faces had those blank concentrated expressions they got whenever they attended to the sick. Their hands worked quickly, mixing remedies and coaxing life into the baby. I took Gale away from them. I lead him to the couch where I sat beside him, cradling him in my arms. For hours his sobs were the only thing that could be heard. My neck was slick with tears when he finally pulled away from me. He seemed to be cried out for the moment and so I placed his head in my lap, stroking his coal dust covered hair with my hands to comfort him.

This was the first time we had touched in eighteen years. I admitted to myself that it felt right.

The baby kicked. Gales face turned to me, his eyes wide. I smiled so gently it almost wasn't there.

"He's trying to protect you," I told him.

When my Mitchell was born he was as silent as he was in the womb. After a few years we realised it was because he needed no words. Each of his touches felt like they were meant for you.

I remember once when Mitchell was only three, Gale had come to us in the night because he had run himself into the ground trying to provide for his children and he couldn't fall apart in front of them. Mitchell had heard our voices and come down to us. He climbed onto Gale's lap and wiped away his tears with his tiny hands and then wrapped his arms around Gale's broad chest as far as he could. Gale clutched Mitchell to him, as though his God-sons touch was all he needed to give him strength. That's what Mitchell did. His pure trust and faith in people gave them the strength to carry on.

Gale became Mitchell's God father because of that fateful night when he turned up in our house, the night Donna died.

After Gale had cried himself into a state of unconsciousness, Peeta came down. Whatever reaction I had expected from him, it was not what I received. Peeta took in my mother and Prim working on the baby, then me and Gale on the sofa and walked over to us. He squeezed himself in next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

"Are we all okay?" he asked.

He meant all of us; me, the baby inside of me, and Gale.

"Donna died." I said a little shakily. I felt Gale's pain. Not because Donna and I were particularly close, but because imagining my life without Peeta made my heart hurt. And that is how Gale felt.

Peeta sighed, pulling my head onto his shoulder and kissing my hair

"It will be okay Katniss," he said, "We will help him."

"How?" I asked, "he stopped accepting my help the day we got married, Peeta; he wrote me off. And I did the same to him."

"It doesn't matter. You and Gale are family, you will always be family. Nothing could really change that. You just haven't been acting like it for a while, that's all," Peeta said. And it was true. Gale and I had been drawn together by a need to protect each other when we were young. Now, I didn't need him to help me provide for my family, but I did need him. There was a part of me that had always felt wrong without him in my life.

I felt Gale's tears on my knee. He was awake again and had heard what Peeta had said. He was too broken for his pride to get in the way of our help and so we became family again. The baby survived and was named Bluebell, because of the colour she was when she was born. Mitchell was born a few months later, and as he grew, he and Gale became very close. I think it was Mitchell's silence that made Gale love him so, so peaceful, so accepting. In Mitchell's eyes, you could do no wrong.

Our children grew to love each other quickly. Bluebell spent most of her days with us, while Gale worked and in time, Maizie who had assumed head of the household brought the others to us. They grew into family, looking out for one another, loving each other. It took a while to get Maizie used to us. She was a bitter product of the Capitols cruelty. She was strong and hard and a leader just like her father. She and Gyp were complete opposites. Gyp was calm while Maizie was brash and flighty. They were brought together only by their mutual need to protect the others and I think it was because they were complete opposites that they made such a good team.

I look at Gyp on the stage, standing resolute and strong. Her eyes burn with determination. I think of how I used to have that feeling; that anger, that strength.

_Look at me now, who have I become?_ I say to myself in my head as I watch Gyp on the stage. How could I have ever brought her into this world? What was it that had made me feel so safe? Why for any ridiculous reason did I think that Snow would ever stop punishing me? Because he wouldn't. I underestimated his evil and as a result my daughter would pay for it.

"Well well well, looks like we have a family pair," says the man delightfully. The Capitol had spun the view that Gale was my cousin, eliminating him as a love interest when Peeta and I were in our Games. As a result they now believe Gyp and Leon are family.

"Distant relatives," Haymitch says, just loud enough for the young man and the cameras to hear. He is already playing his role as mentor well. If other tributes see Gyp and Leon as a team already, they will both be at a severe disadvantage in the Arena. Teams are targeted more than a small individual. Of course Gyp is never going to be overlooked anyway.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, let's have a round of applause for our tributes," says the man but of course, no one claps. I find Gale's face in the crowd. It is white and bloodless and he looks as though he could pass out. Hazelle holds him up and little Bluebell clings to his legs as she tries to will him back to life. But it is pointless. We are all lost now.

I know that soon enough Peeta will break free and Gale will loose his mind. They will cause a riot trying to break through to the children and the peacekeepers will have a hard time controlling them. It will be a perfect source of entertainment for the Capitol, watching us squirm in pain.

So instead of clapping, the citizens of District Twelve swarm around us. They hide our choked, pained faces from the cameras, and refuse to give the Capitol this satisfaction.

I know somehow that The Games won't be the same as they were before. I watch as instead of going into the justice building so we can say goodbye, Gyp and Leon are rushed into a car and driven straight to the station.

This is when Gale and Peeta lose it. As their screams make their way up from that place deep inside your soul where your will to live hides, the crowd swallow them, carrying them out of the square; the shuffle of miner's footsteps muffling their pain.

I don't really remember what happens. It is a blur of angry eyes protecting me until I find myself sitting on a wooden chair in my mother's Kitchen. Peeta stares blankly at a wall. Mickie holds one of my hands, trying to nurse feeling back into my cold fingers. My mother makes Tea. Prim holds one of her babies in her arms.

I can't stand it.

I run out of the room, across the square and into my house, treading mud up the stairs. I fling open my wardrobe pulling out a bag and stuff it with clothes. I can't see what I am doing because the tears have come now.

"Katniss," Peeta says shakily from behind me. His face is like mine; white, hollow, pained, distraught, dying.

"I, I, can't breathe," I choke out. I sink to the floor on my knees as animal like whimpers pass my lips. Peeta's arms find me, trembling, and try to pull to my feet. We try to put ourselves back together, to force ourselves to be brave for Gyp who has been so strong. But a small inkling in the back of my mind tells me it is useless. Everything has been so planned out already. Gyp being chosen, Leon being chosen, them being taken away before we could say goodbye; it is all too perfect. President Snow is making this as painful for me as possible. And I know that somewhere deep in the Capitol an order has already been placed on my daughter's life.

Even though it might be true, I cannot think like that. I cannot even consider a world without Gyp. All I know is that I will help her get home. That is something I can do. I did it for Prim by volunteering for her nineteen years ago, and I will do it now for my child by going to The Capitol and making sure she gets out alive.

We pack bags, lock the house and trudge across the square to hug Mitchell goodbye. We decide to leave him with my mother but when we get into her house the kitchen is crowded with the Hawthorne family. Gale's eyes find mine straight away. He knows my plan. He walks towards me and leads me out of the house, rounding the corner so we can speak.

"You're going, aren't you?" he says. This is the first time we have spoken alone in so long.

"Yes. I have to get them out," I reply looking straight at him, determination flowing through my veins.

"Katniss," his voice is soft and broken. I look away from him, knowing he will bring me to tears.

"You can't bring them both home," Gale whispers to me but I refuse to look at him.

"Katniss," he repeats, taking my face in his hands even though I try to turn it away. He holds me to him then and our foreheads touch as the tears stream down our faces.

Everything in my whole being is screaming. Everything hurts. I don't want Leonn to die. I don't want Gyp to die. We have become a family and I think of Leonn as my own child. He is so sweet, so happy. He would always run into my arms when he saw me. I love him with all my heart.

I know Gale feels exactly the same way about Gyp. He takes her hunting, shows her how to make snares. He used to carry her all the way home when she was tired. It reminded me of the way he used to be with Prim when she was little.

"I am sorry," I whisper to Gale, apologising for his pain even though I am not the cause. He opens his eyes then and I see so much more grief in his than in mine but I don't understand why. Before I can understand what is I see, Gale reaches in and kisses me. His hands lock around my face, holding me there while his hot lips press against mine. I am too shocked to move so his arms wrap around me as his tears spill down my cheeks. I respond to him, feeling sixteen all over again when he had kissed me once in the woods. This kiss is different. It is dark and painful, full of loneliness and a beautiful desperation at the same time. It is a conflicted kiss that makes me feel like it is never supposed to happen but then, was always going to.

When Gale pulls away from me, his rough hands hold me there and his tearstained eyes bore into mine.

"No Katniss, I am sorry," he says and then is gone.

On the train I babble to Peeta about tactics, Gyp's strengths, ways that she can come out of this fighting. I can't accept that only one of them will come home, so I push it aside and focus my mind on ways for Gyp to survive.

Peeta's face forms into a frown when I speak and stays there while I babble. When I notice it, I stop.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Well, it's just... all these tactics, they don't really matter Katniss. We all know that once she gets in the arena Gyp will do what we always taught her to do," Peeta says. I am confused.

"Think of Gyp, Katniss," he says, prompting me so I will understand what he means.

So I do. I picture her in my mind then like one of Peeta's paintings. She is beautiful. She is tall with long golden blonde hair. She has full, rosy cheeks that sit on prominent cheek bones. She has a face like mine, round, only her chin is prominent like Peeta's. Her eyes are big and grey. Not speckled grey like the rest of the seam children. Hers are a crystal grey, like mine, with a dark grey outline. Her perfect, very pale skin runs smoothly over her beautiful body. Mitchell was also born with that very pale skin, only he has such dark curls and Peeta's bright blue eyes. They both look like Angels. Very smooth, very perfect angels.

I think of her name. Gypsophilia. She was named after the flowers that Cinna put in my hair when I married Peeta. Peeta said I looked like an angel that day which is why when Gyp was born I named her after the flower.

She is so much like the flower. Unlike other wild flowers, Gypsophilia grow with one long stem branching out into lots of smaller stems which hold the little white buds. And that is the same with my Gyp; she is never just one thing. She has Peeta's kindness and his clarity and is always willing to put everyone before her. She does it with me; protecting me by being strong when I fell apart so often because if the horrors I had seen over the last eighteen years of Hunger Games.

She has my fight, but also this strength that I have never had; strength to never give up. And her fight is not fire like mine either. Her fight is something entirely her own. It's a peaceful wave of strength that engulfs you if you stand too close to her. Peace is what she is. Her kind heart instils peace in people.

Gyp keeps herself composed and brave for everyone else. She coaxes joy into people with one smile, or song, and her words hang on the wind until you beg her to talk again.

I list her wonderful qualities in my head, realising then who she takes after; my father. Gyp is so much like him that it hurts and brings me delight to think of her.

That's when I realise what Peeta is telling me. He is telling me that Gyp, because she is so much better than anyone in this world; has already decided that Leonn will be the one coming home. It wasn't even a decision for her. He is her family, like Prim is mine, and she will die to send him home to us.

I remember meeting her eyes in the Reaping and finding something there that I had never seen before. It was so much love that picturing it now makes my heart ache. She was saying goodbye. I begin to crack under this realisation and those steadfast arms of Peeta's find me.

"We raised her this way, Katniss. We can be proud of her."

"She doesn't need to die for me to proud of her," I wail in response.

I wail, I cry, I scream everything out of me until I pass out.

In my dream I am there with my father and Gyp. We are at the lake, swimming among the lilies. It is peaceful and perfect until there is the slight 'ping' sound of a bow. It's a sound I would know anywhere. The water between my fingers turns red and Gyp lies in the lake with an arrow protruding from her chest. I look for the shooter and find myself staring back at me with angry eyes. _You caused this_, the eyes say and I know it's true.


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry i haven't updated for ages! - the second part of my story is from Gyp's perspective - hope you like it!

PART TWO – GYP

CHAPTER FOUR – LET THE NINTEY-THIRD ANNUAL HUNGER GAMES BEGIN.

I hear my name being called and brace myself for the stage. As I enter under its bright lights, I hear the crowd fall silent at the sight of me. They have been waiting to meet me for seventeen years. I can feel the anticipation buzzing in the silence as I make my way across the stage to Caesar Flickerman. I catch sight of myself on the monitor on my way. The ice-blue ball gown I am wearing is cascading down to the floor and shining under the lights. It is a mix of white, grey and blue lace and is covered with sequins and pearls. The result is breathtaking. I look like a snowflake, or a raindrop. Like a very precious gemstone caught in the sunlight. As I watch myself glide across the stage I realise that I look like the crystal colour in my eyes, and I fully appreciate Cinna's beautiful work.

It was precious getting to spend these last few days with Cinna. I met him once when I was five. He came to visit us, wanting to meet his God-daughter. I didn't know him well, but I knew he must have been special for my mother to make him my God-father. I hadn't realised just how special he is until I see myself on the screen. The colour of my eyes is something rare, even down in the Seam where all you see is grey eyes, but the eyes I share with my mother are such a light grey they look like crystals have formed in our Iris's. It is a colour that nobody had been able to capture before. Untill now.

I feel the audience hold their breath as I walk forward and I notice Caesar Flickerman can't keep his eyes off me. I worry that I look silly or that I smeared my make up across my face.

"Gypsophilia, it's a pleasure. I am a great fan of both your parents," says Caesar, reaching out a hand to me and guiding me onto the velvet couch. He holds my hand so delicately it's as though I could break at his touch.

"Please, call me Gyp, and that doesn't count, the whole country is a fan of my parents," I say with a winning smile. This breaks the ice and the audience beam back at me.

"You look absolutely breathtaking tonight Gyp," he says, lowering his voice as though it's a secret.

"Oh is that what is? When I saw everyone staring, I thought I might have snot on my face or something," I say and the audience laugh again. I capture them on every word, my voice ringing out like birdsong.

"Hahaha, not at all, you look like a snowflake!"

"Well so do you Caesar, and look! We Match!" I beam at him again and gesture to his outfit which is sparkling white. His hair is a light sky blue this year and the whole ensemble matches mine.

"Ah! So we do! Shall we give a little twirl?" he asks with a grin, and the audience gives a loud scream in agreement. Caesar spins me so my dress whirls around me. The effect is beautiful. The pearls and sequins join together, reflecting the light all around the stage. When I stop, the audience screams at us not to, so Caesar grabs my hand and dances me round the stage. I throw my head back and laugh as we spin, dazzling people with my smile. When people begin to 'ahh' and 'sigh' I catch sight of us on the monitor and understand why. As I move, my dress practically shimmers; it glows in the light and consumes me. I am a perfect, shining light and as I glide across the floor my whole being seems elegant and graceful. Cinna has made me into perfection.

When we finish twirling, I am sure my three minutes are up but the buzzer does not go off. Instead Caesar brings up the subject that everyone is dying to know about; my training score.

"Gyp, I have to ask, what did you do to get that twelve?"

He's not really supposed to ask but no one is stopping him. Silence falls again. I made Hunger Games history by scoring the first ever twelve in the private sessions with The Game Makers.

I was waiting outside the Training Center with Leonn. He was trembling head to toe with fear so I held in him my arms until I had to let him go. He tried to give me a weak smile, but his white face was stricken with worry. But his attempt to be brave stirred something inside me.

"Leonn," I called, just as he reached the door, "show them what you're made of."

A spark flicked across his eyes then and he entered through the doors with clenched fists. I was so glad I had said something because later that evening we found that Leonn had scored a six. I was extremely proud of him. Leonn was a keen climber; a tiny little thing and could fly through the branches like a monkey. But I was doubtful he would have a decent score because what good was that in the training centre where there is nothing to climb?

When it was my turn to enter I realised exactly how Leonn would score so well. Past the doors the usually greyish coloured expanse had been transformed into a forest. The tree's were thick and leafy and rustled with life. As I saw a rabbit hop past me I realised that they had made a live hunting ground for us. Perfect.

I saw the bow and arrow hung from the highest tree and immediately started for it. Whenever I caught glimpses of The Game Makers on their balcony they were laughing, eating, and ignoring me. I was doing exactly what they expected me to do. If I wanted to have any effect at all, to show them just how deadly I could be I needed to do something different. As Katniss Everdeen's daughter they wouldn't be surprised if I could hunt. I needed to show them who I was.

Once I reached the bow I could tell eyes were on me, expecting me to shoot. But I didn't. I climbed back down the tree and walked into the center of the space. It was a slight clearing and The Game Makers could easily see me. Now that I had their attention I knew exactly what I was going to do.

I left the bow at my side, turned into the trees, and started to sing.

My voice was soft at first, gentle deep, and as it rose, it soared through the tree tops. The Mockingjay's flocked to the sound. When I first entered the center I could sense them in the trees and knew they were here. Now they perched before me, transfixed by my voice.

I had always known my voice was special. When I was out in the woods with my father he would ask me to sing to him and everything around me stopped. It was like that when mother sang too, only I was different. For her the birds stopped. For me, they were silent and possessed. My voice entranced them until they were lost in the ripples of my sound.

This happened with the Mockingjay's in the Training Center. They were so captivated by my voice that even when I stopped and drew my bow on them, they did not flee. I took them down in five's. I didn't need to aim. I knew where they were. In five seconds I had killed the twenty Mockingjay's in the Training Center and as I walked out the doors, their lifeless black bodies littered the training room floor.

"I sang to them," I say in a distant voice, answering Caesar's question. I am lost in the memory and when I look up at The Game Makers I can see I had disturbed them. I had shocked them, because how could someone so sweet be so cruel. But I am not cruel. I was simply giving them a taste of their own medicine, showing them what The Hunger Games really are: murder.

I had mercilessly slaughtered the birds to show them just how dangerous I can be. I can trap my prey and kill them. And I will do it in The Games without flinching. I have no problem taking advantage of the weak because I am now part of the Hunger Games; an event purely based on the exploitation of the vulnerable.

When Caesar looks to The Game Makers, the head of them whispers something into a microphone. His wispy voice echoes around the people but nobody seems to catch what he says.

I do though.

_Beautiful but deadly_. That's what he said.

I am glad. I need them to think of me as deadly if I am going to get Leonn home alive. For once someone has got me spot on. I am not afraid. Or angry. I am not even surprised I am here. I am so much more aware of The Games than people realise. I know what my parents did, I understand their punishment is me and because of that, I know my place in this world. My place as protector, as comforter, as a strength. I imagine Maizie, my fellow protector, watching me and hear her voice in my head.

"_Oi, Golden Girl, pull yourself together!"_

Imagining her husky voice gives me a push and I come back to the moment. I take the distant expression off my face and replace it with a beautiful smile.

"To be honest Caesar, I think they gave me the twelve as a sort of joke. I mean, can you imagine, a girl steps into the private sessions and starts singing? They probably just didn't know what to do," I laugh and the audience join me.

"Must of been a pretty good song to be worthy of a twelve," says Caesar, "I think we need a private rendition?" His voice rises to the audience as his arms go up and they roar in agreement.

I pretend to blush and argue with him, but I am honestly quite nervous. I don't sing to anyone a part from my father. I know I will have to do it in the end so I give Caesar a playful slap on the arm and begin my rendition of a song my father taught me.

_There's a place I know where the world is quiet, _

_Where the birds sing sweetly, where the summer breeze riots, _

_Where the children can dance, where the babies can play, _

_Where my heart's with you chasing fears away._

_It's a place so warm all you feel is my love, _

_You will be like a free bird flying up above, _

_I will cherish your heart as you hold onto mine, _

_Our love will know no bounds, will feel no time._

I can feel it as I sing; that stillness that falls when I open my mouth. People are lost in me and I worry they do not hear the words. But they will.

_There you'll be, lying safe with me,_

_Holding my hands like it's meant to be, _

_I will keep you, nurture you, and show you right from wrong. _

_You are safe down there, where the Hunger Games are gone_.

The song is splendid as I finish and my voice hangs in the air after the last few lines are long gone. The world is silent for the moments while I sing but when it lingers; I know it's because of my words. My words that for once tell the truth about these wretched Games. When I turn to Caesar, I see he has tears in his eyes.

"That was absolutely beautiful, my dear. And I bet we all wish there was a place we could keep you safe."

I realise then that the crowd are genuinely moved by my performance; that they feel attached to me. I understand that I have succeeded in winning them over. My look, and personality, and song have transformed me into something so untouchable, so perfect that I have become transcendent in their eyes and they want me to live.

"We are all betting on you," Caesar whispers, leaning to me and touching my hand. The whisper is still picked up by the microphone though and the audience stand and start to applause in agreement, telling me that they are all betting on me. As I leave the stage, I know I should be relieved that I have so much support, but since I know I am not coming out of this alive, all I can think of is how much money they will waste, and that thought gives me a dark satisfaction.

When I return to my floor in the Training Centre I find Haymitch waiting for me, with two opposing emotions plastered on his aging face.

"What is it this time?" I huff, too exhausted to argue with him. Haymitch and I have not been getting along too well since our arrival at The Capitol. Since our first coaching session it was obvious that Haymitch was trying his hardest to save me. He thought the best approach was to present me as innocent and lovable, seeing as I was already idolised in the Capitol and so I would have the best sponsors a tribute has had yet. But he didn't understand that I was never going back to District 12 again. We argued constantly because I wanted to be presented as dangerous, and he wasn't having any of that. In the end he cracked and had to get himself a drink, leaving me in Cinna's hands.

"What are you going to do?" Cinna had asked me.

"I am not sure, I think I am going to need support but I don't want to be portrayed as innocent because the other tributes will just think I am easy prey," I said as Cinna dried my hair into long waves for the interview.

"Nobody will think you are an easy target Gyp. The other tributes will be afraid of hurting you."

"What do you mean?"

"Gyp, do you understand how famous your parents are?" Cinna had asked me.

I thought back to the day Uncle Gale told me the truth about why my mother was so very afraid all the time. She had been in The Hunger Games. I knew that from school. What I didn't know is that she pulled a stunt at the end to save my father's life. The people of Panem thought it was done out of love, but President Snow saw it as an act of rebellion. As a result she was in constant fear of what could be taken from her as her next punishment. I understood that it was me.

"I do. Is that why people constantly stare at me?" I say smiling wryly. I am not amused by the people in the Capitol. Gut wrenchingly disgusted is a more accurate description.

"Yes. You are the product of the most romantic love story in all of Panem."

When Cinna said this I thought about how my parents act. They constantly hold each other, by a hand or a kiss or a look. They are never a part. I can tell it's because they need the comfort of each other. They clutch to each other like they are clutching at their own existence. There is also an element of something else between them, something more than need. It's pure, and can't be confined. Sometimes I see it bursting from the seams between them. They love each other so much and I can tell they don't quite see it as easily as I can.

"So what do you suggest I do, Cinna?" I ask him.

"Be yourself. But the part of you that I know you are Gyp, not this angry self that you have become since you got here. I know you are trying to save Leonn, and you think you need to become distant to do that, but that's not you are,"

When Cinna said this, it was obvious he understood my intentions, but he wasn't trying to talk me out of it.

"Be forgiving, and kind, and strong. Shine with the beauty and grace that you possess and they won't be able to resist you."

Cinna was right about that. In my interview I had charmed and smiled and sung them into falling in love with me. But I hated myself for it, it wasn't who I was. It was who people thought I was.

Before the interview, when I had driven Haymitch to the point where he needed his trusty old friend 'alcohol' for support, that was the last time I saw him before I went on stage. Now standing on our floor of The Training Center he looks pissed and proud of me all at once.

"Right sweetheart," he retorts to my huffy comment, "first off, enough of the attitude, don't forget I used to change your diapers."

The idea of a drunken Haymitch trying to change a baby makes me flinch.

"Secondly, was that song really necessary?" he asks.

Haymitch was referring to the Hunger Games song. It was created nineteen years ago by a girl before she had a child for which those words should apply. That girl was my mother.

A world where I could be safe; where there were no more Hunger Games. That place only exists in our dreams.

"Yes," I reply, because it was necessary. I needed to preserve something of myself in these last few days. I needed to show the viewers and The Capitol who I was and what I thought of them. And what better way to do that than through a mothers broken dreams.

"Okay," Haymitch says. I think he understands why I needed to sing the song. He watches me for a few minutes, as though trying to make up his mind about something and then he walks towards me in one quick swoop and embraces me. He smells of liquor and musk and I breathe in the familiar smell. Haymitch has been a pretty large part of my life growing up and I am going to miss him.

"I have someone here to see you," he says when he pulls away from me. I look at him puzzled because tributes never get visitors but when Haymitch points towards the living room, I see the shadow of a figure I know only too well.

I leave Haymitch and run down the hall, scared that if I stop, he will be gone before I get there. But he isn't. When I round the corner, I fling myself into my father's arms. They are warm and strong and clutch me too him.

"Gyp," he says softly, holding the back of my head in one big hand. His voice sounds pained, as though he hasn't seen me in months. We have never spent time apart so these days have been like torture. I suppose now we will have to get used to being separated forever. The idea of being separated from him sends pains through my heart and my resolve begins to melt.

I share something with my father that nobody else can share with me. Everyone expects me to be like my mother, and in many ways I am. But the most integral parts of my being come from him. They are shaped by everything he has taught me and I love him more than almost anything in this world.

We are so alike. We are calm, we speak through words and sounds, and we are both my mothers' constant protection. Between us we try to keep her going. But there are days when she is completely lost from us, days when she is consumed by images of dead children who take on the form of Mitchell and I once the light in their eyes has flickered out.

When I pull away from my father I can tell he knows exactly what I am planning to do in the arena. I can tell that he always knew, because if he were in my place, he would do exactly the same thing.

"Did you tell her?" I ask him, and he nods. My heart aches for my mother because I know she will be losing her mind knowing that I have chosen to die, that I have stopped fighting. But I haven't. I am just not fighting for my own life anymore. But then, I don't think I ever have been. Maizie and I fight for the lives of our family; for our parents and siblings, and for each other. I miss Maizie so much already.

"How is she?" I ask him. He doesn't answer. Tears sting my eyes. From his silence it means my mother is in a bad condition. He probably had to sedate her and so all I want to do now is to sit by her bed, stroking her hair and sleeping next to her. She likes it when I do that. Tears spill over my lashes then and my father cuddles me close to him.

"It will be okay darling," he whispers. He is crying now too because we both know it won't.

"How is she going to survive without me? We might lose her forever when I am gone."

"Oh darling, we will all be lost if you are gone." His voice chokes and I realise just how much I am hurting him. We are both conflicted because we want each other to live, but because he was the one who taught me how to remain true to myself in this world, he knows that I am not going to.

We spend the rest of our night together, lying on the sofa watching the sun set. It is our favourite colours; his is the sunset orange, mine is the dying sun yellow and we both sit in awe of it. Leonn comes to join us, and we both sit curled up next to my father, leaning on his broad chest and listening to his steady heartbeat.

As Leonn sleeps, I look at my father. I take in his blonde scruffy hair and stubbly chin, his lined leathery skin on his face that covers that prominent jaw that I inherited. I try to burn him into my memory but there is something that is missing. It is the feel of him I need to remember. He is like a sunset; warm, soft and gentle. I store the safe feeling of being wrapped in his strong arms into my mind; those strong arms that used to hold both my mother and I as we watched the sunset dying during my childhood, the arms that were probably the last to hold my baby brother, arms that feel like they would do anything to protect me if they could. This feeling was something I could never forget even if I tried and so it filters through every thought in my brain and I try to keep it there, locking it behind doors that I will open during the dark days to come.

"Gyp, sing to me?" My father whispers as we watch the orange sweep across the sky.

"Why?" I ask him.

"Because the world feels better when you sing," he says.

"Okay, but you sing with me."

We sing The Meadow, a song that rings across District Twelve all year to try and still starving babies' cries.

Our voices are whispers, echoing each other. I try to sing all the way through but the pain in my heart stifles my song and my father continues. He holds me and sings me to sleep in his arms, letting me feel like a child for a little while. In doing so, I say goodbye to my childhood, my family and him. It hurts because I am losing a piece of myself which is so important to me. It's the goodness in me that he molded.

As I drift off I hear my father say something to me. I know it's something important, but I don't register it. Instead I dream of a list of people and whisper them little goodbye's in my sleep.

The next morning I wake to find myself in my bed in The Training Center and my father is gone. Once up and dressed, Leonn and I march to the roof where we are lifted into a hovercraft and inserted with a small tracking chip. I take mine with gritted teeth but Leonn who is anaemic does not take it so well. He struggles and they end up tearing his skin when they try to insert it. Loss of blood is the last thing he needs.

The hovercraft carries us to the arena where in an underground room I am dressed by Cinna while I try not to let the fear consume me. I am wearing tight trousers, supple leather boots, and a waterproof jacket. Cinna attaches something to me while I gaze down into nothingness and I instinctively reach up to my chest to touch it. My fingers feel the cool gold and the outline of the bird and i know it's my mother's Mockingjay pin that she wore in her Games. I look up to Cinna. He takes my hands and looks into my eyes.

"I promise you Gyp, you are so much more like your mother than you realise," he says. I stare into his golden eyes, wishing to get lost in them, to hide from my fate. But soon an invisible glass surrounds me, separating us, and I am lifted from the room up into the arena, holding onto those golden eyes until they are lost from me forever.


End file.
